


Borrowed Hours

by TheGreatCatsby



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 11:37:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4959175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatCatsby/pseuds/TheGreatCatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tokyo is burning, and Kougami has a promise he needs to keep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Borrowed Hours

**Author's Note:**

> This is revenge for j_marquis' brilliant but extremely sad fic "Tattered Pages", but at what cost.

“I promise we'll get out of here.” 

Tokyo is on fire. 

Kougami looks out the cracked window and sees smoke drifting through the sky from thousands of sources. Blood in the streets. Body parts. 

It should be loud. There should be the sound of explosions, screams, chaos. But the streets are completely silent, save for the occasional crack from things falling apart, the crunch of footsteps over debris, and the occasional promise Kougami makes and re-makes that he is determined to keep, that they will survive this like they've survived everything else. 

He steps out of what used to be a grocery store, gun raised. His feet crunch over glass and he scans the streets. Nothing. No one. 

He's long since accepted that most people are dead. Or worse. That the city has become a hell. 

He turns around and gestures towards the building. Ginoza gingerly climbs over the broken glass, slowly moves towards Kougami and meets him in the street. His gun is also out. 

“I think we have enough,” Kougami murmurs. It's the third food store they've gone through this morning. 

Ginoza nods. Kougami misses his voice, but neither of them talk much now. To make noise is to give away your position and put yourself, and everyone around you, at risk. 

The undead have surprisingly good hearing. 

They pick their way through the streets, occasionally stopping at the abandoned cars. Many of them have been gutted out by fires. None of them have been left undamaged. Whenever Kougami approaches a car, Ginoza guards his back, gun up and ready to shoot at anything that moves. 

Nothing does. They're lucky. Kougami is waiting for it to all go wrong. 

They continue down streets that become more and more spread out, leading them further and further away from the city center. Kougami stops looking at the cars, resigning himself to walking. 

And then Ginoza says, “Do you think it's safe, where Akane is?” 

“It has to be,” Kougami says. 

Ginoza sounds tired. Kougami is tired, too. They'd been caught in the city when everything went to hell and have been hiding ever since. It was only yesterday that they heard from Akane on Kougami's emergency phone that there was somewhere to escape to outside of the city. A refugee camp, protected by the military from the undead. All they needed to do was get there. It's changed their routine. No longer do they need to hole up in dark abandoned buildings waiting for a sign that things will improve. Kougami hadn't thought that he could do that for very long, anyway, but Ginoza had insisted that wandering around would be too risky. 

Akane's information adds fuel to the promise Kougami keeps making Ginoza. That they will survive. Because he wants nothing more than to get Ginoza away from all of this death and decay, to see him relax again. Maybe even smile. 

Kougami is thankful that Akane managed to escape. He wouldn't want anyone to be trapped in a place as horrible as this. 

As empty. 

But not empty, not really. It would be nice to think that most of the city's residents have made it out. But that would be a lie. They're all still here. But they've all changed. Become monsters. Become something they never would have wanted to be. 

And it feels like Kougami and Ginoza are the only two left. 

“We can walk,” Kougami tells him, voice low. Even so, it cuts through the silence too easily. 

“It's forty miles from the outer edge of the city,” Ginoza murmurs. “Which we haven't reached.” 

They keep walking, pace slow so as not to tire themselves. The more energy they spend, the more food they eat, and they want to save what they have. And the faster they go, the more noise they make, and they don't want anything to know that they're here. 

They find an abandoned apartment building and take it in shifts to sleep, like they have done for the past few weeks. It's become routine. Ginoza sleeps first, restless in Kougami's arms. A few hours later, he'll wake from his light sleep, if it's a sleep at all, and they'll switch. Kougami will lean against Ginoza's shoulder and rest. It's comforting, stealing each others' warmth during the cold nights. Not being alone. 

The next day they start again, a swift kiss and then on their feet, back outside. 

“We have to get a car,” Ginoza says once the sun is high. “We can't walk the whole way. It's too risky. It will take too long.” 

And you're too tired, Kougami thinks. Every hour they spend out here takes more out of them. Not just physically. He can see in the way Ginoza's eyes have become hollow. This place is cutting away at him. 

They come across a street full of parked cars an hour later. They don't look as damaged as the ones closer to the city center. Kougami starts forward and Ginoza grabs his arm. 

“I will.” 

“No,” Kougami says. 

“You always check first,” Ginoza hisses. “It's not fair for you to put yourself in that much danger. I need to do my share.” 

“You do,” Kougami says. “You have my back.” 

“You take too many risks,” Ginoza says. “It's going to catch up to you.” 

“It'll be fine.” He starts forward. 

“Don't say that.” Ginoza catches his arm again. “You don't know that.” There's a hint of desperation in his voice. 

Kougami takes a deep breath. “We're wasting time.” 

Ginoza narrows his eyes. “Don't you--” 

“You can take the next one,” Kougami says, and pulls away, heading for the car. He hears Ginoza curse under his breath. 

Kougami checks under the car—clear. And then inside. The windows are tinted, so he has to get uncomfortably close to the glass to see what's inside. But there's nothing there. He tries the door. It opens, with some difficulty. 

“This could work,” he says. “Let's see if it turns on.” He climbs into the car and ducks his head under the dash to look at the assortment of wires that might make the car run. 

He becomes so engrossed in the wires that when the gunshot goes off just outside the car, his heart nearly jumps out of his chest, and he jerks up and smashes his head against the dash. 

He scrambles out from underneath the steering wheel, head throbbing, and pushes himself out of the car, fumbling for his gun, just as a second gunshot goes off. 

He sees a thing that used to be a person fall to the sidewalk, limp. And Ginoza drops his gun. It clatters on the sidewalk. 

“Gino,” Kougami says. 

“Y-you should go,” Ginoza mumbles, a shudder running through him, arms wrapped around himself. Kougami frowns, confused about what he means, and then Ginoza turns away and doubles over, retching. 

Kougami runs towards him, rubbing his back as Ginoza heaves up everything in his stomach. But then, he stumbles away, choking, “Don't touch me!” 

“What?” 

Ginoza turns around. Kougami had thought that he'd been holding his stomach, before, but now that he's closer he sees that Ginoza is clutching at his left arm. The fabric of his jacket is torn, revealing a red, raw, and ragged wound. Kougami feels lightheated, a strange buzzing encompassing his whole body. 

His eyes move from the wound to Ginoza's face. Ginoza is extremely pale, eyes wide. Scared. 

“Kougami-” 

The buzzing stops, Ginoza's voice slamming him back into himself. “Get in the car.” 

“What?” 

Kougami grits his teeth. “Get in the car, before more of them come. They'll have heard the noise.” 

“But-” 

“Get in!” He shouts without meaning to, and Ginoza flinches, but gets into the car on the passenger side. Kougami gets into the driver's seat, gun on his lap, closes the door, and ducks down to look at the wires again. 

His hands are shaking as he hot wires the car into working, but it turns on, and Kougami sits up, pulls out onto the road, and starts speeding through the city. 

“Kougami.” Ginoza's voice is weak. Rough. 

“It shouldn't take long,” Kougami says. “Even if the roads are blocked. It shouldn't take long at all.” 

“Kougami,” Ginoza repeats. 

Kougami's eyes are burning into the road. He refuses to look anywhere else. He needs to pay attention to the road. 

“They can't help me,” Ginoza says. 

“Fuck.” Kougami swerves, even though there's nothing there. “No. That's not true.” 

“I don't feel well,” Ginoza whispers. And the fear in his voice cuts Kougami to the core. 

There's empty spaces, now. Fields of grass and forests in the distance. They're finally out of the city. And Kougami pulls over onto the side of the motorway. The sun is starting to set, the warmth from the day disappearing into cool evening air. 

For a few moments they just sit there. Kougami still doesn't look at Ginoza. 

Then Ginoza says, “I'm going outside. Give me your gun.” 

“No.” 

“People leave.” 

“Not you.” 

This time he does turn. Ginoza stares back at him, a sheen of sweat now coating his skin, making his hair stick to his forehead. 

“I need to do this,” Ginoza says. “I don't...I don't want to turn into one of those things.” He spits the word out, things, with disgust and horror, face twisting. 

“No,” Kougami insists. “No. Why are you giving up so quickly?” 

Ginoza's eyes widen. “I'm not-” 

“Would you even be able to pull the trigger?” 

“I have to!” 

“It's my fault!” Kougami shouts, and Ginoza flinches. “I promised you, Gino, and I wasn't there to-to-” 

“It snuck up on me,” Ginoza cuts him off. “I wasn't fast enough. If it hadn't been me it would've been you.” He takes a deep breath, shuddering. “Can we go outside? Please?” 

Kougami nods, jerkily, and opens the door. The two of them stumble onto the grass. Kougami's legs give out and he kneels in the dirt, Ginoza not far away, holding himself. 

“If it's what you want,” Kougami says after a moment, “I'll do it.” 

“You don't have to.” 

“You might miss,” Kougami says, turning to him. Ginoza is shaking, the fever that precedes the transformation into something not quite human taking hold. His body will go, and then his mind. 

“I waited too long,” Ginoza whispers, looking away. “But I want...I want to go. Before I start to become something else. I want to go as myself. I shouldn't have waited. I should've done it before you got out of the car. The second it happened. I'm a coward. And now you--” he swallows. “Kougami, you can just leave me here. If it's too hard.” 

“No.” Kougami picks up his gun. Places it in the grass. It has never felt so heavy, or so cold. 

Ginoza moves over, closer to Kougami, leans against him. Kougami wraps his arms around Ginoza and holds him, feels every shudder running through Ginoza's body. The sun is starting to set, and soon Kougami won't even be able to see Ginoza's face. 

“When?” Ginoza asks. 

“Not now,” Kougami says. “I don't want to see it.” 

He doesn't think Ginoza will say anything. But then he says, “You'll be okay. You'll make it to the camp, and you'll be safe, and you'll be okay.” 

“Will I?” Kougami swallows a sound like a sob. 

“I need you to be,” Ginoza says. 

“It won't matter, will it?” Kougami takes a sharp breath. “You won't know what happens.” 

“I'm sorry,” Ginoza whispers. 

There are tears on Kougami's cheeks that he doesn't bother to wipe away. “It's not your fault. I just...I'll never talk to you again. You’ll never be on the other end of anything I say. I’ll just be yelling into nothing. You won't be in that camp. And I'm going to have to try to survive without the person I...” 

“Kougami-” 

“I love you.” Kougami chokes out the words. “I wish it had been me. And I don't know if I can...if I'll be okay. I don't know.” 

“I think you will be,” Ginoza says. “You're stronger than me.” 

Kougami turns so he can look at Ginoza. He can barely see Ginoza's face in the fading light. “No, I'm not.” 

“We'll just have to disagree,” Ginoza says. His words have started to slur together. “Kou.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I'm scared.” 

“Me too.” 

“I can't feel parts of myself,” Ginoza says, carefully, as if he can't even feel himself talking. “And there's...fuzz. In my head. I feel like...I'm something running down a drain. I can feel it happening.” 

Kougami is strangely grateful that in the dark, he can't see what emotions are playing out on Ginoza's face. He can't see the bits of Ginoza he's losing as the minutes go by. 

And he won't let Ginoza feel himself going any longer. 

He stands up, gently extricating himself from Ginoza. “You deserved more than this,” he says. “You deserved to be happy.” He steps a few paces back. “But this is the only thing I can give you.” 

Ginoza doesn't say anything. Maybe he can't anymore. He stays there, kneeling in the grass with his back to Kougami. Ready and resigned. 

Kougami isn't ready. But he knows Ginoza needs him to be. So he raises his gun, aims at Ginoza's head. 

And pulls the trigger. 

He doesn't hear the gun go off. He sees the spray of blood and brain and bone and sees Ginoza fall and go completely still. Kougami too falls to his knees, the gun still in his hand, as if the strings keeping him going have been cut.

And what is keeping him going, now? 

But like those not-humans that should be dead, he stands up again, and staggers to the car. And eventually, he drives away.


End file.
